


First She Saw Red

by Szept



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Colorblind Soulmate AU, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22017436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szept/pseuds/Szept
Summary: In a world where one can only see colours after first laying eyes on their soulmate, Angela meets hers when what remains of Genji Shimada is brought to her operating theatre.
Relationships: Genji Shimada/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	First She Saw Red

A thunderous noise rouses Angela from her sleep in the space between two heartbeats, her system flooding with adrenaline in response. She only recognises the sound the second time it comes as the knocking on her door. A tired groan slips past her lips. One never truly becomes used to late night wake-up calls, even if one becomes used to them happening. A surgeon's shift never ends, and that goes double for Overwatch. Saving lives is not a job one can postpone until convenient.

“I'm coming!” she shouts as she stands up from the edge of her bed, rubbing at least some of her sleep out of her eyes. Adrenaline helps, but some biological processes must take their due course.

She flips on the lights, unveiling the muted array of greys that all the walls of the base are painted in. White, blue, and orange their names.

Angela starts upon opening the door. Of all the people she might've expected to find on the other side at this hour, Commander Morrison was not even in the second circle of candidates. It makes her immediately guarded. The leader of Overwatch should have more important things to do this late into night, like sleeping, than to knock at the door of his Medical Research head.

“What's wrong?” The woman skips formalities, unable to shake the foreboding sensation at seeing the ever so photogenic face of the man creased with deep, grey lines.

“We have a critical patient we require your assistance with.” Angela tilts her head, silently demanding more answers. “He's a VIP. A lot of our operations in East Asia depend on him living through this.” Ah. Nothing like starting a fire under a subordinate’s ass in the dead of night to help them wake up.

“How much time do I have?”

“Thirty minutes, he’s still on the jet. And Ziegler.” His light grey eyes pin her own. “He must live.”

“Understood.” She nods, restraining herself from scoffing. She'd never put any less effort into any patient than the absolute most she's capable of. A VIP or not. It doesn't matter.

The following half an hour is a rush of activity. The hot and cold of her shower to shake off the last vestiges of sleep takes three minutes. The walk to the infirmary wing another two. Getting into her surgeon gear take two more, the disinfection just one. Preparing the tools, the staff, and the brief all take ten more. The doctor watching over their patient on the plance gives them a report over a vid-call so that they prepare the best they can for his arrival. When the man is rolled inside the operating theatre, all of them are ready for what is to come.

All but one.

Angela freezes upon seeing red for something other than a shade of the grey for the first time. Upon seeing the man whom fate decreed she must save to ever hear one word from her soulmate. Her hands clench, her heart stutters, and her lungs burn. Here lies her soulmate, less than half of a man, in a stretcher soaked through with a red that might as well be black. Here she is, seeing the human body for the first time again as the details of the surrounding world slowly come back into focus. The whites, the blues, and the oranges of even her own clothes flooding her eyes with sensations she could never have imagined.

She can't operate on him. There's good reason emotions have no place in the operating theatre, why spouses don't cut open their loved ones.

She can't leave him. They've brought him to her, two continents away, because to see him survive, they had to.

She takes a look at the now unfamiliar tools of her trade she's prepared scant minutes ago, at the now unfamiliar faces arrayed around the table, waiting for her instructions, waiting for her to save the remnants of a man they've been brought. She looks at her soulmate.

She can't do this. She _must._


End file.
